


William, Demon and Christine

by MarquessBrie



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Contracts, Death Threats, Demonic Possession, Gen, Soul Selling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 19:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13488228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarquessBrie/pseuds/MarquessBrie
Summary: Based on a crossover of Rascal-Rose's Jekyll and Hyde Villainous AU (which can be found at http://rascal-rose.tumblr.com/) and my own original work. The Demon, Black Hat, belongs to Alan Ituriel and the Villainous crew. William belongs to Rascal-Rose. Christine belongs to me.





	William, Demon and Christine

The woman who entered his hovel was not one he was unfamiliar with. Christine Bowman was a well-to-do woman, often seen about town in one of several full-length dresses she was never seen without. She dressed very modestly, the only skin on display that of her face and her hands. Her hair was kept in a tight bun, and the only extravagance she seemed to indulge in was the lace that trimmed her dresses.

Her husband was almost never at home. As a sailor in the Queen's Navy, he was out to sea for months, years at a time. For all appearances, she'd remained faithful to him, though who knows if he maintained the same decency. 

To say it was surprising for her to let herself into the hole in which the professional tailor (and amateur psychologist) had locked himself away was an understatement. His closest friends… His wife… had yet to find him, and yet here this woman was? Maybe he'd picked the wrong hovel, maybe this was a place she knew of…

“William Vessel?” she asked, eyes taking in the dilapidated interior before settling on him.

“Y-yes?” His voice was rough and cracked with disuse. A cruel laughter rang out in his head, suggesting without words the torment the Demon intended to inflict upon this unwitting victim. It made the tailor flinch, which in turn made the woman's eyes narrow.

She strode into the shack as if she owned the place, examining the few comforts he'd allowed himself. “It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance,” she said, not looking at him directly. “It figures it would be a tailor…” The murmured observation was almost inaudible.

William blinked his remaining eye owlishly. “I beg your pardon?” 

“You study the mind, isn't that right?” Her assertion made his blood run cold and the Demon growl, but he nodded slowly in confirmation. “The mind, the connections between all sentient creatures… It forms a web… A tapestry…”

“... A cloth.” He finished for her, unbidden. It was a little thrilling on the one hand to hear his ideas confirmed by another. Then again, he was insistently reminded of the proof he'd already gathered. 

The Demon seemed to be agitated by this woman, especially as she drew nearer. Get rid of her. She can't be trusted. If you don't, I will. The unbidden thoughts echoed like a funeral toll. “Please, I don't want any visitors. If you could be so kind as to leave me to my sorrows?” His voice was pained as he pleaded with her, unable to communicate the full danger of her continued presence.

She regarded him evenly, but ignored his request. “Mr. Vessel, if I'm not mistaken, you found something odd in the folds of that cloth.” 

She was close now, storm grey eyes regarding him seriously, almost seeming to look through him. The Demon shouted at him, I will make you watch as I gut this Mrs. Bowman if you don't get her to leave this instant!

Her hands shot up to either side of his face, and though her grip was gentle, where her fingers touched him was fiery agony. Even the Demon screamed at the contact… especially he screamed! 

“Don't threaten him,” she commanded with a stern grimace, hold firm as he tried to wrench himself from her grasp. “I know you, Demon. You will behave yourself for the duration of this conversation, is that understood?”

The creature inside Will asserted control and attempted to tear her hands away, only to feel that searing pain in any part that made contact. She bore down on him until he was kneeling, screeching at her, “Yes! Yes! Blast it woman, let go of me!”

She did as bidden, stepping back to fully appreciate the change he'd undergone. His skin was darker, and ashen. She was not unfamiliar with the pallor of the recently deceased, and his complexion was not unlike theirs. His hair was curlier, and he seemed to be drooling a bit, though that might have been from their altercation earlier. He glared up at her, panting, before getting up. “Witch,” he spat at her shoes.

The corner of her lip quirked upward. “A priest would do the same harm. Could I not be one of the faithful?”  
His gaze did not lighten. “The faithful make it a point not to know what lurks in the shadows of the mind.” The Demon rolled his stolen neck and straightened his dapper attire. He considered her actions and settled on, instead of outright loathing, imperious condescension. “And they wouldn't release me unless one of us had been destroyed.”

Her smile was without mirth, and unbecoming of a proper lady. “Aye, that's fair enough. Still, we're making a push to go by “mage” if it's all the same to you. Witch has some… unpleasant connotations.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh lovely. A bloody suffragette. I should have guessed your stockings were blue, you frumpy old hag.” Christine, for her part, seemed nonplussed by the venom.

A thought occurred to the Demon, and an oily smirk slid over his features. “What would your husband think? Not only practicing witchcraft while he was away serving Queen and Country, but seeking out strange men to consort with without so much as a chaperone,” her stepped towards her, not touching, but looming over her. He had a good foot on her, all told, so it wasn't necessarily difficult. “What would your family think? The neighbors?”

She stared at him, completely unamused. “That is unimportant. What is important, my dear sir,” she took a moment to grace him with a mocking curtsy. “Is that you are upsetting the Balance in my city.”

The statement seemed to confuse him for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure as she continued. “Good, Evil, Life, and Death, the Powers That Be must be kept in Balance, or else sorcerers start coming out of the woodwork to impose it themselves. Now, I don't know about you, but just as soon not have those mind-controlling ruffians in my city.”

“So you come to me seeking to make a bargain.” He surmised stroking his chin. 

Mrs. Bowman nodded. “It doesn't matter how it's achieved, but Balance must be preserved. So, either you curtail some of your more nefarious plots, or you will find your opponents have discovered untapped reserves of resources and abilities.” She shrugged. “It's up to you how you'd like to proceed, given that information. I'd rather not get further involved if it can be avoided.

He took a moment to mull over his options, before a cruel smile spread over his features. “You won't interfere with my plans so long as they doesn't upset this Balance you're so keen on.” He swirled his hands, black smoke materializing behind their movements, which coalesced into a parchment and quill. He took the objects from the air and began scratching out a contract “Obviously I want this in writing.” He explained, as if to a particularly dull child. “I will also need an assurance that you won't interfere so long as I maintain my end of the bargain. It is an enormous inconvenience on my part to be restricted so, and I will accept no less for that collateral than…” He paused as if considering it for a moment. A thought dawned on him, and he looked at her with a feral hunger. “...your eternal soul.”

Her eyes narrowed as she took in the implication. “Obviously your designs must then exclude the explicit pursuit of my soul, or else you would get it regardless of the contract being upheld. That's not the point of collateral.”

The statement made him glower a bit, but he amended the contract to her specifications. “You will not interfere with any of my plans that do not include the pursuit of your soul so long as those plans do not threaten your Balance.”

“”The Balance,”” she corrected. “I really couldn't care less if you were to make me lose my footing, physically or metaphorically. “The Balance between Life, Death, Good and Evil, if you want to be precise.” Mrs. Bowman strode around to see the wording of the contract for herself.

The demon rolled his eye in exasperation. “Yes, yes, we wouldn't want to be imprecise.”

“And it wouldn't be prudent for me to sign a contract where there is a penalty for failure to uphold, but none for you.” She pointed out mildly. “If you are to fail to live up to your end of the bargain, you must relinquish your possession of Mr. Vessel here immediately.”

It was his turn to glare skeptically at her. He couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the prospect of experiencing a real setback, though. He was patient, if he had to let Vessel go… That and the prospect of a willingly given soul was too good to pass up. “Agreed. Is this satisfactory, Mrs. Bowman?” He growled, putting on a sullen air.

She read it over a few times and was unable to think of any real loopholes he could exploit. “Yes, this is satisfactory,” she nodded, holding out her hand for the quill, which she was given. She signed the parchment and he signed as well, and the pact was sealed.   
He materialized a copy of the agreement and gave her the original. “A pleasure doing business with you…” he said, tipping his top hat as he strolled out the door, towards whatever mischief he had planned for the night.

“... Sorcerer."

The word he called back as an afterthought sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the autumn air. She gripped her copy of the agreement a little tighter as she tried to see any loopholes she may have missed. 

Normally she felt as clever as a fox but…

A hound bayed not too far in the distance.


End file.
